


Fan Pass

by VenusTheMarvelTurtle



Category: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (Cartoon 2018), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Boys Kissing, Celebrity Crush, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Dressing Room Sex, Exhibitionism, Fan/Celebrity, Hopeful Ending, Loud Sex, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Rough Sex, Size Difference, Size Kink, Slutty Leo, T-cest (Kinda), The ol' autograph trick, Voyeurism, Wall Sex, wrestling!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-22 12:37:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21302195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VenusTheMarvelTurtle/pseuds/VenusTheMarvelTurtle
Summary: (Celebrity wrestler/Fan AU.)Raphael can hardly believe his fucking eyes when his brother hands him a backstage pass to meet Ghostbear at a wrestling event. Even when the guy turns out to be a massive dick, the gift isn't a total waste...especially with the League's newest member, PrimeTime, right across the hall.
Relationships: Leonardo/Raphael (TMNT)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 197





	1. The Lead Up to the Smut

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Caroaimezoe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caroaimezoe/gifts).

> (A/N: For Caro, who has been there since damnear the beginning, and all the lovelies who haven't murdered me in my sleep over Antithesis yet.
> 
> WrestlingAU! My turtle porn features a lubrication gland HC! Also, HC that Leo has brown eyes. Fight. ME.)

The Hamato family wasn’t rich. 

Most mutants weren’t, in all honesty. Their official “1%” consisted of maaaybe six people and their families, even in the wake of the big hoopla about _ societal integration, _ when humans finally couldn’t ignore the genome abnormalities damnear growing from the cracks in the sidewalks anymore. 

Wages for mutants weren't equal, reliable or necessarily "livable", so when Donatello asked what he wanted for his 21st birthday, Raphael told him, even though he knew there was no way he was getting tickets to WrestleMania. 

He’d looked up the prices three months before and with their father unable to work for the foreseeable future, validating a trip to Vegas on the part time salaries of a mutant motorcycle tech and an equally mutant IT rep was laughable. 

And when he saw the black and red logo slashed across the envelope in Donatello’s hand, stretched towards him as their friends and family clustered around their favorite table at Minotaur’s, Raphael almost _ shit his pants_.

“OHMYFUCKINGGODDONNIEYOUDIDN’T-!”

“Calm down, calm down.” Donatello laughed, righting his violet frames and half-heartedly pretending to suffocate under Raph’s joyous embrace. “It’s not WrestleMania, there’s no way we could swing that, but I tried to get the next best thing.”

Raph practically ripped the thing open with his teeth to get at the contents. He let out a moan of pure delight when the glossy ticket fell out into his palm, laminated and strung on a glittery red lanyard, mouthing the words printed in serial-killer script across the top.

FAN PASS: SUPER-FAN MEET AND GREET W/ (F) WORLD CHAMP GHOSTBEAR!

There was no receipt or price on the pass or in the envelope, and Raph knew that was intentional. A feeling like icy rain trickled down into his euphoria.

_ ‘Shit.’ _

“How many extra shifts did’ja have ta take to get this?” he asked, clutching the pass to his chest even as a sharp twinge of guilt stung him between the eyes. 

_ And what are we goin’ without so I can have it? _

Donatello pursed his lips and waved him away with a low noise. “Ah... a few, but it’s fine.” The crease in his olive brow smoothed before it could get formed totally. "Besides, you've been taking dad to his appointments while I'm in class. You deserve it."

Donatello grabbed the pass and slung it around Raph’s neck before he could protest again, grinning wryly when his big brother wiggled like a child. “Happy hatch-day, you big behemoth.”

Raphael couldn’t stop stroking the thing, loving how the smooth plastic felt against his fingertips. It was instantly the best birthday present he’d ever received, bar none.

Fucking CHRIST, he was going to get backstage access to the sport he loved, and they were letting him meet a Real! Live! Wrestler! And his favorite one, no less!

(The shady little “F” by his idol’s name needled him a bit- f, for ‘former’, but **fuck** the League anyway because PrimeTime _ definitely _cheated during that championship debut match. Raph just...didn’t see how, and neither did the officials, but it still happened.)

“I can’t believe it,” Raph chattered, too wired to reach for more pizza as he bounced in his seat and tried to clamp down on the psychotic screech threatening to lift him out of the booth. “I get ta meet Ghostbear. Fuckin’ GHOSTBEAR!”

“Not if you repeat that word one more time, you’re not!” Splinter snapped, thankfully giving Raph enough warning to dodge the sauce-soaked crust that came flying at his head a minute later. “Curse again, and you’re grounded until you start aging _ backwards_.”

For the rest of the meal, Raph didn’t even curse in his own mind.

* * *

The gift was actually a two-pronged deal. The meet and greet was scheduled for early in the morning the very next day, and Raph was supposed to receive two tickets to the afternoon match from Ghostbear himself. 

April was coming with him to the show later after she left work, but Donatello had agreed to give him a ride into downtown on the way to his morning lecture.

And it all started with a fucking crisis. 

“Oh shi- DONNIE!”

“WHAT?!”

“D’YA KNOW WHERE MY-”

“_BOYS! SERIOUSLY?!” _

_ “SORRY, DAD! _Don! D’ya know where my Ghostbear shirt is? The championship one?”

“No, but it’s probably dirty, you wear it everywhere! Just put on the one you got at the viewing party last month!”

“I can’t wear that one, ‘s got _ PrimeTime _ on it! That’s jus’ disrespectful!”

“Raph, I literally do not care if you wear your actual birthday suit there,” Donatello snarked up the stairs, and Raph heard him jangling the keys threateningly. “Myself and my car are pulling out in two minutes whether or not you’re in it, ass naked or otherwise.”

Donnie didn’t bluff when it came to leaving people. It was practically his favorite pastime, so Raph let out a frustrated snarl and yanked his generic League shirt over his head with one hand while stumbling over his shoes, reaching for his bag and the pass with the other. “Alright, alright, shit! Wait!”

By some miracle, he didn’t get left behind. Raph was on tenterhooks the entire ride, and when Donnie finally pulled up in front of the stadium, Raphael nearly climbed out of the car window before he came to a complete stop.

“I’ll pick you up after my-”

“YeahyeahsureDonniethanksseeya!” 

Raph vaulted over the curb and burst through the entrance into the vestibule of the arena- the wide, cavernous, fucking _ built in a circle _vestibule of the arena. Thankfully, there were signs with the League’s logo plastered on each column pointing him in the right direction. 

A long booth staffed with attendants in blood spattered shirts and bustling with onlookers stood guard at gate A. Raph gripped his pass in sweaty digits and swallowed down the spiders trying to crawl up his throat, eyeing the crowd warily. 

Big groups of people? _ Not _ his thing. But he’d be damned if he let his social anxiety ruin a chance to meet his literal idol, and he’d be double-damned if he wasted Donnie’s gift. 

Raph sidled closer to the booth and, after a quick upwards glance at the banners, jumped into the line labelled _ FAN PASS, _noting with a pleased, anxious chill that he was the only one in it.

“Hey, hey, ‘scuse me-” he started, once he caught the attention of the freckle-specked turtle manning the sign-in sheet. “I-”

The shorter mutant’s head shot up, and he grinned, showing off neon orange braces. “Fan pass, right?” he chirped, tapping the tip of his pen against his sea-green cheek. “Name?”

Raph blinked twice, fumbling for the pass around his neck. “Uh- Raph! R-Raphael Hamato. Yeah.”

The worker grabbed his clipboard and started scanning it with a baby blue squint. 

Raph felt perspiration prickle beneath his underarms. Fuck, what if his name was wrong? What if somebody didn’t put him on the list? “Uh, it might be on there backwards, it's Japanese, my brother’s kinda ana-”

“Nope! Gotcha right here!” Brace-Face (it looked cute on him though, and his nametag said _ Mikey _in colorful stickers) said, jabbing his pen at the paper. “Raphael Hamato, Fan Pass to meet Ghostbear. Oh! It’s got a birthday message attached! ‘From Donnie: Try not to piss your pants!’”

Mikey dug a three-fingered hand into the pouch at his waist, and Raph watched in bewilderment as he pulled out a bright blue kazoo and...was that-?

“Happy birthday from the NYWL!” 

Raph flinched as Mikey tossed a handful of confetti and glitter over his head and blew an off-key tune into the kazoo.

“Heh heh…” he chortled thickly, face browning heavily as every eye in the entrance area turned to gawk at him. “All’a that wasn’t n-necessary, man…”

“Your brother requested the full celebratory ceremony, and I'm being taped at all times for quality assurance,” Mikey reported cheerfully. “You can follow me now!”

He stowed his kazoo and reached over to unhook the velvet rope stretched over the entrance to the gate, and Raph stepped almost reverently through.

Mikey led him down the stairway into the portal, every step towards the main arena cooler and darker. They entered into the stands on the ground floor, and Raph let out a stunned whine as his eyes overflowed the holes in his bandana. _ “_Holy _ shit…” _

He’d never seen the ring from the floor seating- they’d never been able to afford it. The overhead lights were on, but dim, and the whole setting was alien without rows of screaming fans and flashing sirens. Looking at them stretch on and on, he suddenly felt tiny.

“Word of advice, dude?” Mikey piped up, shaking him out of his awe. He had circled around to the other side of the ring while Raph was staring, and Raph scrambled into a jog to catch up with him. “Don't take it too hard.”

“Take what?” Raph huffed. They rounded the corner of the ring and turned down the slanting hallway that led, Raph knew, to the dressing rooms below. The chilly air clung to his skin and made him shiver, waking up the spiders in his guts once again. 

“All of it.” Mikey said finally, patting Raph gently on his shell through the cutout in his shirt he’d had to make for his carapace, as they came to a stop in front of a gold-painted door. The marquee over the flashing star said GHOSTBEAR in ragged, red and white letters. 

_ Oh my god, oh my god, this is it this is IT! _

Mikey bounced forward and launched into a whole spiel, apparently unbothered by the fact that Raph had stopped breathing correctly as he gazed, stunned, at the door.

“You’ve got an hour, then one of us will come down and get you. Don’t forget to inquire about your ticket to the show later! And _ no _ funny business; security is super bored and you do _ not w_anna be their entertainment for today, ya feel?” he recited, very quickly.

Raph nodded once, and Mikey arched up on his toes to rap a knuckle against the door before spinning on his heel and heading back the way they’d come in a blur of color and sticker patches. 

Raph didn’t have time to give voice to the desperate call of _ WAIT! _ he wanted to yell- the knock had sparked a flurry of activity and low voices behind the door- gods, was he late? Had he missed most of the event?!- and he could only stand there, _ frozen and freaking the fuck out_, as it swung open. 

As far as mutants went, Raphael was pretty big. He wasn’t gigantic- he’d seen much larger mutants made of stronger stuff than turtle, bulls and hippos and wildebeests and the like. 

Raph felt _ insignificant _ in that moment, as he came face to face with his favorite wrestler at last. Ghostbear was human, but the guy was fucking _ huge _, bigger than he looked on TV, strapped up and down with tanned muscle and covered in wiry black hair. 

Raph felt his spine go watery, and told his inner freak to _ shut the fuck up, don’t ruin this for me! _

Alright so maybe. _ Maybe _ Raph wasn't totally straight? And maybe the dude in front of him had been instrumental in helping him figure that out? 

Shut up, alright? 

There he was, in the flesh. Holy shit. Holy _ SHIT! _

He opened his mouth, and listened in horror as a weak little gurgle escaped his throat, with maybe one or two words dissolved in it. 

“Gggghhostb-bear-!”

The massive man in the doorway let out a distinctly animal-like noise and scowled down at the quivering mutant. “What, what? What in fuck you want, eh?”

Psyched as he was, the curse didn’t even phase Raph. His eyes lit up all the more when he was addressed, and his next sentence was preceded by a breathy wheeze. “Uhm.” 

_ Goddamit, tongue! Work! Move! FUNCTION! _

“I- uh, Gho-ghostbear?” He inhaled a shaky breath through the squeals threatening to break through his teeth and lifted the pass with trembling hands, “My n-name’s Raph and I uh, I g-got this pass-”

A meaty hand swooped down and snatched the pass from him, lifting it to the light. Raph yelped and rose up onto his tippy-toe to avoid it being taken clean off, melting when he realized that the wrestler was a paper’s-width away from _ actually touching him._

“Hm.” the big man snorted, upper lip curling over yellowed teeth. He had his costume on, but the closures were only done halfway and the whole ensemble was wrinkled and sideways, like he’d thrown it on in a hurry. “You are fan of Ghostbear?”

“Yeah,” Raph gasped, rocking back onto his heels as his pass was released. “I uh, yeah! Yeah man, you’re my favorite!”

He clasped his hands together on his plastron and finally lost control of his babble impulse. “I-I was wondering, maybe, if you had a few minutes before the match-”

A giggle emanated from the depths of Ghostbear’s dressing room, inserting itself boldly into the conversation and bringing Raph’s stream of words to a halt. 

_ Umm...the fuck? _

Ghostbear smirked and leaned his head further out into the hallway. This close, Raph could smell the sour aroma of sweat and exertion on his skin, overlaid with something sickly sweet that burned his sinuses.

“Listen now, sparkly turtle boy,” he began, prompting Raph to flush with color and frantically rub the remaining bits of confetti and glitter off his clothes. “Ghostbear is very busy, always, before matches.” 

"Jorgé," came the little giggle again, in a thickly accented slur, and something that sounded like the rustling of sheets. "_Dónde estás, mi campeón? _ Where did you go?"

Oh. He'd… he'd been… there was…

_ Jeez_. 

Not that Raph, at the fresh age of 21 in the year of our lord 2019, was any stranger to sex and everything great that went along with it.

Just…hadn't the guy remembered the meet and greet? Had he…cared?

“Yes...very busy,” Ghostbear continued, craning his head around to leer at a sight his body, thankfully, obscured Raph from seeing. 

As awkward and…really kinda inconsiderate as that was...Raph tightened his resolve and straightened his shoulders, determined to enjoy this. 

It was still _ Ghostbear,_ right? 

“N-No, I get that! Tha’s cool, I just- maybe, if ya wouldn’t mind givin’ me some advice-”

“Ghostbear gives no advice, never.” the wrestler cut him off bluntly, raising a paw sized hand to scratch at the matted ears of his mask. “If you are not born champion, then you will never be champion."

That...technically counted as advice, albeit the shittiest brand he'd ever been given. At this point, Raph didn't try to stop his face from sinking with each irritated sigh his idol leveled at him. 

"Did you come for autograph?” Ghostbear asked, eventually. Raph, like the dumbass he knew himself to be, perked up. 

“That’d be awesome!”

“Is 20 dollars.” came the swift condition, puncturing him like a balloon. 

Raph wilted, sinking lower into his shell. He hadn’t brought money. The show tickets came with meal vouchers, and an autograph hadn’t been specifically mentioned in the pass info but he hadn’t thought they’d make him pay extra.

“Oh...I don’t have-”

Ghostbear cracked a real smile for the first time since the visit began. “Then fan pass is done. Now please, leave Ghostbear be.” He shuffled backward and wedged his shoulder into the crack of the door. 

“Hey- HEY! WAIT!” 

The door slammed shut in the middle of his exclamation. Raph was so blown away with shock, the waft of air almost put him on his ass. 

Once that settled though, the ugly red rage that was never far away (he was working on it, okay? High school, his diagnosis, and the teacher that didn’t believe in conditions with more than 4 letters wasn’t that long ago) bubbled up from the crevasses in his brain and flowed into his veins before Raph could even clock the path of the burn. 

“FUCK YOU, man!” He kicked out savagely, rattling the knob with the force of it. “FUCK YOU!”

BAM. BAM. BAM. 

Through the avalanche of hurt and affront tickling his nose and the humiliation welling in the corners of his eyes, Raph’s wounded pride latched onto the barest minimum of the injustice.

“I...I at least get a autograph outta this!”

He almost fell headfirst into the room when he reared back for another kick and the door swung inward, opening just long enough for a t-shirt to sail through the gap and smack him straight in the face.

A generic League shirt… exactly the same as what he was wearing...three sizes too-fucking-small. 

“_Adios, amigo! _”

Loud, saucy Latin music began blaring from the room, finally drowning out the loudest of Raph's protests. Pressure that felt distinctly moist around the edges built itself up behind his eyes, echoing painfully around his head when he dragged in a wet sniff. 

If a turtle cried a little in a hallway after having the door slammed on them by their idol, and no one was around to see it, it didn’t happen. (Even if it did.)

Christ. He felt so stupid and wasteful. Donnie could never know about how horribly the whole thing had gone...Raph should’ve just asked for something sensible, like a detailing kit or a new game or-

The sound of another door creaking open behind him made his shoulders hunch in anxious anticipation- he honestly thought he was about to get yelled at again. 

“Fan pass, huh?”

Raph swiped a hand over his beak and turned to face the speaker, swallowing to clear the blockage from his throat. “Whu-what?” he coughed, wincing when he felt his voice break. 

He almost didn’t recognize the other turtle slouched against the doorframe, staring at him with a smirk and crossed arms, and it was mostly because of the outfit, or rather lack of one. His sweatpants and show robe ensemble was a far cry from the usual bullshit “street” attire, but there was no mistaking his famous trademark, the bright blue shapes circling his eyes and green brow. 

_ Fuck! Is that-? _

“Don’t take it personally. He’s a dick to everyone,” the new mutant continued, tipping a sympathetic chin at Ghostbear’s dwelling. 

“Yer…” Raph stammered, “yer PrimeTime, right?” A quick glance at the placard confirmed it, as did the guy’s sudden twisted face and nod.

“Not for much longer, hopefully. I hate that name.” His gaze slid to the side, back to the door where muffled music still spilled beneath the jamb. “You’re not getting him back out of there, that’s for sure.” 

He righted himself with a shift of his leg. “If you want, you can spend the rest of the fan pass time with me?” he offered casually. “I know I’m not super famous yet, but at least you won’t be wasting your money.”

Raph balled his fingers into fists around the hem of his shirt, stunned and intimidated all over again. He didn’t really know what to do, or if he was allowed to just jump celebrity like that. Plus, he didn’t know anything about PrimeTime- dude was too new in the League for anyone to have formed an opinion, aside from the bandwagon fans that had abandoned Ghostbear after he lost. 

Then again...he’d sworn not to waste Donnie’s gift. PrimeTime was still a wrestler, right? And even if he was a jackass too, Raph was still getting tickets to the show later no matter what. 

“Uhm…s-sure, thanks.” he grumbled eventually, shuffling forward. PrimeTime stepped aside to let him enter, but Raph still had to turn sideways and stoop a little to clear the doorway.


	2. The Part with the Smut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: Cause we all know what we're here for, don't we?  
Translations at the end.)

Vanity...stretching bench..._ bejeweled throne? _

“Whoah,” Raph blurted, screeching to a halt at the sight of the towering chair. “What’s that?”

PrimeTime exhaled a short laugh from where he was hitting the light switch. “Prop for the show. Some dumb, scripted thing with the owner? I dunno. You can sit there, if you want,” he added, seeing that Raph was still standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. Blushing, Raph gingerly settled his spiny bulk into the gleaming thing.

“Sorry again, that that didn’t work out,” PrimeTime was saying, as he nudged the door towards ‘halfway closed’ and walked fully into the room. “I hope you didn’t pay too much.” 

He was shorter than Raph, but then, most people were. Thinner and lighter too, so a different species of turtle altogether, autumn-colored markings scattered here and there on his oak green skin. The glittery blue starbursts of his tattoo (Raph couldn’t tell if it was bodypaint, or real, or what) framed eyes the color of maple candy, looking up at him with amused pity.

“M’ lil’ brother got it for my birthday,” Raph mumbled. _ This is so surreal._ “He’s- he _ was _ my favorite wrestler.” 

He scowled and shoved his hands into his pockets as a fresh wave of hurt rushed through him. “Is he always like that?”

“Ye_ah_,” PrimeTime said, throwing himself down into his vanity seat. “Probably has something to do with losing that,” he admitted with a smug chuckle, gesturing towards the enormous championship belt hung up on the wall.

The belt...the one he’d taken from Ghostbear. Raphael gaped at it a bit in reverence, momentarily struck out of his anxiety by being close enough to see his reflection in the chrome surface. 

“Man, I was so pissed that night you won…” he said, rueful. He watched his own bronze irises roll in the image from the belt, recalling how fucking FLABBERGASTED he’d been watching the champ fall.

“Nobody’d even heard of you, and then WHAM!” Raph mimed an explosion, then shook his head and collapsed heavily back into his seat. “How did you-?” he began, passion loosening his tongue. 

PrimeTime shrugged easily, like he’d answered the question a million times and expected to do it a million times more. “Let’s just say I figured out his formula.” 

He always looked so knobbly and thin on TV. Up close though, and especially when he reached behind to grab a tube of some kind of cream off the vanity, Raph could see every self assured motion flex with smooth muscle. 

‘_He looks WAY better in person, holy crap...’ _

“So. What’dya wanna know?” PrimeTime asked. Raph jerked and coughed, hoping he hadn’t been caught (briefly!) checking him out a little. 

“Um...shit, I dunno.” He squirmed, itchy all over. He still felt nervous, but it wasn’t so much a starstruck fear as it was general fear of looking or sounding stupid.

PrimeTime didn’t seem like a dick. To be honest, the whole thing was taking a better turn than Raph had expected. 

He eventually landed on the most generic question ever. "How old are ya? They keep callin’ ya the youngest wrestler ever.”

PrimeTime untwisted the cap on the tube he was holding, filling the room with a sharp, minty scent.

“I’m 20,” he said, dotting the stuff down his bicep and smoothing it in with long rubs. “Turning 21 in three months.” 

Raph shifted on the plush throne cushion, finally relaxing. “Why’d'ya hate yer name? Didn’t ya pick it?” 

The other mutant recoiled, barking out a stunned guffaw. “Gross! No way.”

He spread a thin layer of the cream over his palms then dragged the mess- and Raph’s unwilling eyes- down both sides of his neck and around his shoulders, tendons stretching with the movement. 

“My real name is Leonardo- Leo, for short. I wanted to be called DaVinci, but,” the facial markings folded inward for a split second as his face crumpled, “I’m too new to make any demands.”

_ ‘Way, way better in person...’ _

A large THUD resounded through the walls, and something cracked and fell off the gaudy throne when Raph jumped and flinched. The music hiked in volume, but it didn’t cover the exaggerated moans and grunts that followed a second later. 

_ Jesus...jesus. What a prick. _

PrimeTime (Leo? Was that okay to call him now? Were they friends, did they know each other?) barely blinked. Raph figured he was used to it. 

“Hey,” he said drily, deadpan, “you know what they say about meeting your heroes.” 

“The kid up front tried ta warn me.” Raph growled, irritated all over again. “Should’a listened.” Hindsight really was a bitch.

“Kid up front?" Leo repeated. "Was his name Mikey? He’s my brother.”

“Oh.” Raph returned. Not much of a resemblance, but who was he to throw stones? “Cute.”

“Everybody says that.” Leo said. His expression was in knowing, teasing, and wistful all at once. “You could probably get his number if you asked, he’s 19.”

Raphael thought back to the few seconds he'd spent up front. Cute, yeah, and spunky, but Donnie was the one that liked them cuddly and adoring.

Besides. It was hard to focus on the image of orange braces when those moans were still thundering away outside, and the whole room smelled like whatever cream Pri- Leo- had been using. 

“Nah." Raph blurted. Sweat gathered under his collar at Leo's _ look _. "I-I mean, he’s more my brother’s type.”

The corners of wrestler’s mouth turned up. “Huh.”

“What?” Raph bristled, and his smile grew conspiratory.

“Nothing.” Leo dropped the tube and reached behind him to snag a takeout cup from the edge of the vanity. His cheeks bulged as he swallowed around the straw, and a little bit of moisture gathered in the corner of his mouth that he had to lick away before speaking again. 

“You know, you’re the first fan visit I’ve had that wasn’t totally batshit. Everyone else was like, a PrimeTime hater that wanted to hurt me, or trying to sell me something.” 

“Yeeeah, maybe these things ain’t the best idea.” Raph agreed. The cup sailed into the trash, making way for the baggie of french fries that Leo picked up a second later. 

He started eating them as he waited for an answer, and Raph was so distracted watching him lap and suck gently at the salt and grease left over on his lips and fingers, he lost control over his brain long enough for it to burp out-

“T-then again...this one ain’t goin’ so bad, right?”

Leo paused, raised an eye ridge, and Raph felt an icy pit open up where his stomach used to be, horrified at the thirsty edge in his own tone. 

“I- Uh, I mean…”

Then...a give, and if Raph didn’t know any better, a darkening of his cheeks as well? 

“Maybe you’re right.” Leo chuckled. “We’ll see when it ends, won’t we?”

‘_Did he just...did I just…?’ _

_ “_AY_, PAPI! Pegame bi_EN _ ! _ OH_hhh…~” _

Another round of moans made Raph squirm and left him fighting not to cross his legs. Leo only smiled. 

“What do you think? Is she faking it?” he said, in a voice just a few hairs above a murmur. 

Raph shivered, but not from cold, as he felt the air in the room subtly _ shift. _ He didn’t want to think about it. But he was hearing it, and that made it all too easy to imagine yards of muscle and bulk pinning some thin little thing to a mattress and _ fucking _ them to kingdom come. 

“D-Dunno,” he rasped, struggling to keep the sight in front of him separate from the sounds surrounding him.

“Chicks not really your area?” Leo asked. He licked his thumb one last time, toffee eyes smoldering with teasing...and interest. Half of Raph wanted to know why _ he _wanted to know. 

The other half wondered what the wrestler would sound like speared on something thick and long, and how much _ automatic flexibility _came with his profession...

“Y-yeah. More mah friend April’s speed, t’be honest-”

He jumped to his feet with as a thought suddenly occurred to him. 

“FUCK! My tickets! He was ‘sposed ta give me my tickets for later!” Raph raged, embarrassment forgotten as he glowered at the door and the hallway beyond it, seriously debating charging into the other dressing room and demanding his shit. 

The feeling of a warm hand slipping in and out of his back pocket did NOT make him squeak, thank you. The noise he emitted was much more dignified. 

“There,” Leo stated, when Raph clapped a hand to his butt and felt the outline of paper in his jeans, “all good.”

_ He just touched my fucking ass. _

They met eyes for a while. The girl across the hall cried out and came noisily, or at least pretended to. A hot clench of arousal rippled through Raph’s marrow, headed straight to the weight gathering behind his zipper. He tried to trap it in the crush of his thighs, and all that did was press the feeling tighter, concentrating it.

He didn’t dare breathe through his nose. He knew what he must’ve smelled like, burning up with hormones and slutty impulses. 

“You said something about an autograph, earlier.” Leo said, not even bothering to hide the open want in his face anymore. “Did you still want one?”

“Ah, y-yeah.” Raph gulped, still racing to process the fact that he was actively flirting with a famous wrestling celebrity. “But I don’t, uh. Money, I don’t have any.”

“No charge,” Leo cut him off with a wave of his hand. “Mostly because I’m not an asshole.” He stood up from the vanity, leaning into it casually to grab a blue marker from the edge. “You have any paper? If I write on the tickets, they’ll be invalidated.”

“Mah shirt, maybe?” Raph offered. 

Leo shook his head. “It’s not permanent, it’ll wash out.”

A memory dripping in horniness rose to the surface- April, fresh from seeing some girl-band perform live, showing off the signature on her hand until the ink finally rubbed away. 

“Y-you could, uh…” When his words failed him, he fidgeted around in his seat and pushed his sleeve further up his bicep, unable to meet the other mutant’s eyes.

If he had, he would have seen the fierce bloom of lust there.

“Really?” Leo smirked. 

“I’ll get my friend ta take a picture of it, ‘r somethin’.” Raph sputtered defensively. Leo only grinned, shrugged, and pushed himself away from the vanity, closing the distance between them with a few steps.

Raph watched him move from the corner of his eye, thinking about how his waist would probably fit in one of Raph’s hands. 

“You said my brother isn’t your type,” Leo said, as he uncapped the marker and leaned in close. His breath tickled the curve of Raph’s jaw, feeling almost like nails on his scales. “What is?”

There were several answers to that question, if he wanted to be literal, and Raph could only think of the one that fit his current clusterfuck. 

He gulped back a hysterical giggle. “I-” 

The marker touched him right when he wasn’t expecting it, startlingly cool and wet on his overheated skin. He _ JUMPED, _predictably sending the thing flying. 

“Oh FUCK, shit, lemme-”

Leonardo moved before he could, settling a hand on Raph’s shoulder before stretching up and leaning down, damnear putting his head and torso in Raphael’s lap. “I’ll get it.” 

The vanity caught the view of his backside, leaning over. Raph’s palms tingled, and he had to look away from the glass. 

“Got it,” Leo announced, finally standing up after a lifetime of torturous wiggling and stretching. He brandished the marker. “Can I finish?” he asked. “Did you want something special?”

Raph’s mouth went dry before he realized Leo was talking about what he wanted the autograph to say.

“Uh. N-Naw. Go- go ahead.”

He had to stop himself from hissing when it came back- cool slickness being dragged wetly across his bicep in taunting swoops and swirls of cursive.

Leonardo finished the signature with a hard, playful flick that jostled Raph’s arm and made the lower v of his plastron _throb_.

“There,” Leo said, stepping back from the throne (not far enough, not close enough) to seemingly admire the writing. 

They locked gazes again. Raph watched Leo’s lip travel beneath the edge of his teeth. The music played, and the moans faded. The tension did not.

“Hey,” Leonardo mumbled. The syrupy color of his eyes was almost obscured by how low his lids had fallen. “How old did you say you were again?”

Arousal made his tongue heavy, but Raph didn’t stutter. “21,” he grunted, grinding his jaw against the enticing urge to bite into the other mutant’s collarbone. 

“Fan_tastic_.” 

Before he could even process what was happening, Raph had himself a lapful of horny celebrity. Leo poured himself into the throne, stradling Raph’s legs and finding a perch with practiced ease.

_ ‘Ohgodohgod, is this- are we-?” _

His life couldn’t be that crazy, could it?! All those little games and tests had built towards this, word by word, but now that they'd arrived the entire scenario was moving far too quickly for Raph's higher functioning to keep up. 

Right before their faces touched, Leo pulled up with a faux pout. “I could get in trouble for this,” he breathed. Despite that, he didn’t stop circling his hips against Raph’s groin, both of them shivering as wet cartilage brushed wet cartilage. “You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?”

He still didn’t know how or why this was happening, but he knew the exact moment his brain and body decided, in unison, to make the goddamn best of it. 

“Ya gonna check my fuckin' ID?” Raph growled recklessly, desperate heat snapping through him so intensely it almost hurt. The red fire filling him up came from the same place as the rage, but it felt deeper, darker, _ nastier_. “Or ya gonna kiss me?”

Leo’s eyes flickered, and he grinned. “Nah.” He brought his mouth down in the same instance he canted his hips up, both of them hissing and sighing into the messy liplock as their slits shared a sticky kiss too, pressing their trapped erections together. 

Pain twisted deep in his pelvis like a bite from a burrowing animal, just the right amount of _ wrong, ouch, **fuck**, _just enough to make his back curve and his nerves burn, and Raph moaned into the clean, boyish taste of Leo's saliva, and understood that PrimeTime liked a sharp edge to his pleasure.

He dropped down fully with a shudder, gasping with no air as fingers rubbed tight, ticklish circles under his weeping head and gripped him like they meant business. 

“Aah-h-ha,” Raph panted, jerking into the tight circle of Leo’s hand. He almost felt ashamed at getting so riled up from just a handjob, but the situation was so insane he thought it was warranted. 

Leo was playing him like a fucking instrument, wringing a chorus of pitifully stiffled snarls and groans out of him until one devastating twist of his wrist sent Raphael kicking again, coating his hand with an alarming amount of precum in the process.

“F_-fuck _-!” 

By the time his eyes faced the right way around, Leo had rolled smoothly off his legs and settled on the floor, hands balanced on Raph’s thighs, expression hungry and minxish all at once.

The room spun. Raph dropped his head back, dizzy and oxygen-deprived. “Je-jesus,” he chattered, still stunned at the direction his night was taking. “What...what even…”

“Do I have to explain it to you?” Leo quipped by his knees, still wearing that insufferable smirk. He flicked his tongue out to toy with an errant strand of precum swinging from Raph’s tip, leaving a sharp pinprick of pleasure in its wake. 

Raph wanted to paint the length of it _white_. 

“Nah, smartass,” he sneered, feeling those nasty red urges sweep through him again. “Just...fuck. Never thought I’d get _ this _ kinda present f’ma birthday.”

The smirk grew. “Really?” Leo dragged an obscenely pink tongue up his palm and wrapped his hand vice-tight around the base of Raph’s cock, tugging him upwards by the helpless knot in his insides towards the sucking kiss he dropped right on the wet head. “You need better friends.”

_ I need for you to stop talkin’ and start gaggin’. _

Dirty talk still made him blush a bit, so Raphael didn’t voice the thought aloud, but Leo must have seen the sentiment clear on his face judging from the way he moaned a little, squared his shoulders, and slurped him halfway down in one go. 

“Mmmshi- shiiit-”

HOT and _ wet _hit him like a blistering gunshot, smothering his senses and dragging them down into one focal point somewhere behind his navel. Raph’s toes curled and he slid lower in the throne, fingernails digging little dents into the faux metal armrests. 

Leo (_PrimeTime, PRIMETIME! Fuck, he was getting grade-A head from a fucking celebrity) _ pulled off with a pop for every bit he sucked deeper, till his lips fluttered against the inseam of Raph’s jeans, and goddamn if he didn’t look more like a pornstar than a wrestler with slender fingers balled up in the denim as he rode the thrusts and tried not to choke on his noises.

The satiny squeeze of his throat wrung tight around Raph’s shaft and left him wheezing, head spinning, hips jerking in time to the relentless swipes of the wrestler’s tongue along places he hadn’t even known could tingle like that. 

No words yet thought of could describe the toe-curling sensation of teeth locked gently around his thickest vein while his head was scrubbed half-raw against the roof of Leo’s mouth on every messy gag, cushioned by suction and enough moisture to make him breathe through his molars. 

“Fuuuck yes,” he hissed, leg muscles jumping. “Yes, yes...nngh_ sssh_-” Climax throbbed threateningly at the root of his cock and pushed at the edges of his eyes, sweeping a wave of hot goosebumps down his shoulders. 

God only knew how much time had passed since he’d been left down there. Raph at least knew he didn’t want to be caught in that position by security.

...or, he thought he knew. But the closer he got to spilling a ferocious load down Leo’s throat, his higher functioning started to fray at the edges. 

What the fuck could they do, exactly? Gasp? Look scandalized? Drop their jeans and jerk it to the sight of their boss sucking cock like it was the very thing he needed to live? Maybe they’d take a picture, make him go viral for fucking a star like they did this every Tuesday ...

The rough noise that tumbled out of his chest was almost covered by the answering squelch his hard motions forced out of the celebrity at his feet. Leo pulled up to take a giggling breath, top and bottom lip shiny with what he’d been doing.

_ Why don’t ya just blow a bubble, slut? _

“You look like you have something to say,” Leo prodded saucily, in response to the unvoiced expression. “Do you?”

Well, he’d been trying to stay respectful. But since he fucking asked…

“I mean, I c-could tell ya yer d-definitely the champion of swallowin’ _ dick_,” Raph husked, “But I’m pretty sure ya’already got that f-figured out.” He didn’t know whether to be proud or mortified of the dirty purr he was somehow pulling off.

Leo’s nails and teeth were suddenly a lot more present to the situation, adding bright pinpricks of electric pain to everything. The muscles behind his plastron rippled as one wave, and Raph knew he was a goner. 

“Fu- ohfuckI’m, I’m cumin’, fuck-” Raph arched into the tilt eagerly and felt it being drawn away, to his utter disbelief, as Leo slackened the pressure in his jaw and rose up on his knees, letting him slip out with an artless, mocking kiss. 

“What, no no no nooo…” Raph whined, grasping breathlessly for Leo’s shoulder and jaw. Fuck, he’d been so close. “I w-was right there, I w’s...why’d ya-?”

The glittery tattoos on Leo’s brow formed new shapes as his face scrunched in confusion. “Is that all you wanted?” he asked, voice low and uneven. “I thought...I mean, if you just wanna do it like this, we can. But I figured you’d want to, you know.”

Bogged down by the unspent orgasm still caked thick into the creases of his brain and searching for words like needles in haystacks, Raph only gaped at him. “Hunh?”

Leo didn’t roll his eyes, but his mouth- that perfect, twisted, still-shiny mouth- did the next best thing, puckering prettily to the side. “C’mon, genius. I thought you wanted to fuck me,” he clarified tartly. “But like I said, if you’re good with only head…”

Oh. _ Oh. _

“Oh god,” Raph groaned. “The timin’...they’re g-gonna come lookin’.”

In all honesty, he hadn’t even expected to get this lucky, and the crazy taboo of the situation was working to get him off almost as fast as Leo was. If his worst choice was settling for an incredible blowjob, he wouldn’t cry over it. 

He was in his right mind, so of course he wouldn’t turn down anything further. Still, he wasn’t trying to go to jail for it. 

Leonardo waved him away carelessly. “Don’t freak,” he reassured, “the ticket dude is my little bro, remember? He'll cover for you if I ask him to." 

He rocked back onto his heels, knees and thighs spread salaciously under a come-hither grin. The neck of his robe pooled in the dips of his collarbone when he went to lick a line of gleaming fluid off his wrist. “Now do I have to ask a third time for you to fuck me, or…ah-!?”

His snippy little tease morphed into a breathy gasp when Raph surged forward and boosted him onto the stretching bench with a scooping heave. His ass met the plastic with a meaty smack and he flailed for a second before recovering, surprise turning back into lust as soon as he got his balance back.

“Give it a try,” Raph said, emboldened by his easy response as something carnal took over his motor controls, something born deep down in his gut. “We’ll see where it gets ya.” 

Leo purred and preened while Raph peeled him out of his robe at last, one leg stretched to the side and the other wrapped tight around his waist before the blue-edged fabric even fluttered to the ground.

“God_ damn_. Need it that bad?” Raph asked thickly. He was so hard it was starting to hurt, dick slapping against his bony abdomen with every motion. They both groaned when he reached down to grope Leo’s thighs- Leo from the force and the hard smack, and Raph from discovering the thin slickness clinging to his warm scales. 

“D-dunno if you know,” Leo sighed, “b-but you’re kind of a fucking tree, dude. I got w-wet when I opened the d-door...” 

He squirmed and grinned past his tongue as Raph marveled at the mess between his legs, dusky pink rim swollen and twitching and _ clearly having been played with recently. _

_'Kinda like was getting ready for me.'_

“...a-and I was already open. B-bout to cum when y-you started ye-yelling.”

Raphael was running on heat and instinct at that point- there was no shame or shyness in the noise that snagged in his teeth or the way he spread the wrestler out on his thumbs, dipping his head to bite filthy things into Leo’s skin before finally applying his mouth where they both wanted it most. 

“Ah! Oh, fu-"

Leo let out a wounded squeak and bowed forward, knees locking tight over spiny shoulders as he shuddered and writhed in Raph’s grip, nearly dwarfed by his shadow even with the larger mutant on his knees.

And Raph? Raph was having a fucking _blast_, nose deep in his sticky wet musk, swept away by salt and sweat and hypnotized by the desperate flutters of his shining entrance. His entire jaw filled Leo’s lap, making it easy as hell to tug at his winking hole with his canines and layer his tongue over Leo’s pulsing gland, heavy and firm so he didn’t waste any of the sweetness dribbling from under his tail.

Leo was _chatty_, shameless and organic in the way he sang his pleasure out to the cramped dressing room. 

“F-fuck...oo-oh, fuck, you’re so, sooo good at that, fuck, yes-”

A phone went off, buzzing faintly beneath the slick sounds of Raph licking him smooth, lapping and poking and teasing the line of what could be tongue fucking him in all honesty, and there might as well have been three layers of cold, jellified reality between Raphael, the ass in his face, and the rest of the world at large. 

There might have been muttering voices, too, and confused curses in a language he didn’t speak, and a sharp volume increase in the background music every time Raph dragged a different sound out of him, high and breathy and feminine.

“*Y si lᴏ haᴄe ᴄᴏmᴏ baila~*” (“Ye-e_hhh_sss…”)

“*Y mᴜéᴠela, mᴜéᴠela, mᴜéᴠela~*” (“FUCK! Deeper, yeah, don’t t-tease-!”)

“*Frótale, pᴏnle y~*” (“Oh _shit_, yes, eat it, g-get me f-fucking _ weeet._..”)

It stopped ringing by the time he dragged his head up for air, around the same time Leo started trembling on the bench. 

“C’n ya come like this?” Raph asked, hardly recognizing his own voice through the tidal wave of blood surging through his head and pounding in his dick. He didn’t get an answer until he dug his thumb into Leo’s slit and sucked on his tail tip, and only after Leo convulsed with a low shriek, cock straining red and weeping into Raph’s palm.

“I caaan,” he panted, dragging shaking hands down the scalloped ridges of his plastron, “but if I do, I’ll never forgive you.”

“So ya _ do _ still want my dick.” Raph leered, embarrassment and inhibitions long since dissolved. “Makin’ sure we’re on the same page, babe.”

He gripped himself in hand and shuffled forward on his knees, and was staggered just a little when Leo twisted to the side and threw a hand down to block his first testing thrust. 

“Wait, wait,” he rasped, “you’re heavy, big boy. Gotta stay loose for the show later. If we do it over the bench you'll break me in half.”

Raph decided to only acknowledge the spicy hike of arousal in his scent with a knowing pinch. "Mmhm. Bet ya'd really hate that."

Leo smirked and wiggled his brow, making the tattoos dance and sparkle. “Change of venue?”

Raph choked and flickered his eyelids, caught off guard by the sudden arrowhead of humor that knifed through his own arousal. “Fuck, yer corny when ya wanna be.” 

“And hot?” Leo teased, dragging the inside of his calf lightly across the back of Raph’s leg, the portion exposed by his undone pants. 

Raphael wished he could say he didn’t give him the satisfaction of a shiver. He tried to cover it by pushing two digits into Leo’s puffy hole and following him when he lurched away, whimpering. Three shimmering strands clung to his finger when he leaned back.

He had such pretty bottom tendencies... fuck. It was like someone had shaken him right out of Raph's favorite porn flick. It was making him act in ways he didn't recognize...but they came nice and natural all the same. 

“Go ahead, pick yer poison.”

Leo disentangled himself from Raphael with a deft little leap and stood, finally kicking the door all the way closed as he went.

“Against the wall?” he suggested innocently, lower lip skewered on his bottom right canine. 

Raph would have said they could fuck on the_ roof_, so long as they actually did fuck sometime that century.

“Sure, whatever ya want.” he snapped, trying and failing to keep the strain out of his tone as he fought not to reach down and grip himself, anything to relieve the unsatisfied pressure that was making his vision go fuzzy and a dark stain spread across the rucked-up belly of his shirt. 

He turned away to shuffle towards the far wall, like he had some sense, and almost wasn’t surprised when Leo draped himself against the door, ass angled back and palms against the wood. 

Like a _nutjob._

“Did’ja get cold all of a sudden?” he asked over his shoulder.

Raph had more than half a mind to walk the fuck out, because he_ seriously _ wasn’t trying to go to jail for an orgasm and a crazy story. They’d already been making so much noise.

The other half of his mind though...

_ He’s a madman. _

“...they’re gonna call security.” Raph said, hoarse with pain at how achingly hard he was, at how much he wanted this. 

The laugh he received couldn't have been more flippant. “I am security.” Leo replied. He didn’t just not care- the thought was visibly burning him up. “Now fuck. _ Me_.” 

The room was small. It only took three steps to reach him, and half a step for Raph to crowd his slight frame against the door. Their plastrons clacked as they pressed themselves together, back to front, churring and groping with the same damp breath.

Raphael let himself bite down into the patch of shoulder he was close enough to count the scales on, hard and deep enough until the muscle shifted under his teeth, and Leo just moaned and reached back a single hand to spread himself open. 

The first push in was clutch and sweet, and they fit together so, _so_ well as Raph sank through his slick heat to the root, smooth as butter. A pop of premature fire tingled from his chest out to his fingertips, dragging out a disbelieving curse. 

"F-F_huck _," he gasped, head falling forward to lean against the cement wall. He gave himself up to how delicious, how warm, how perfect it felt and let his hips move on autopilot, alternating between slow, filling strokes and shallow teasing ones to match the tempo of Leo's needy sounds.

"This...y-you f-feel fuckin' crazy. You feel so fucking good..."

Said celebrity curled an arm over his neck to encourage the rhythm, mewling and whimpering every time Raph rolled his cock deeper, split him open just an inch more.

"D-ditto..." he gasped, working his back to the measure of a wicked metronome. "Ah-ah, mm-!"

He wasn’t pounding him terribly hard, just thrusting steadily and grinding deep, but Raph could feel his knee joints going liquid from the steadily-building tide all the same.

The door thudded and clicked in the frame, making it obscenely obvious from the outside what was going on, but there were no footsteps or shouts from the authorities.

<strike>Honestly, they wouldn't have stopped if there were.</strike> This shit felt better than anything he could remember, anything he could think of ever having again. 

"H-how are...y-you so...f-fucking tight? Shit-" Raph hissed, and he _was_, god, silky and snug as a vice inside, tighter each time Raph battered the spot that made moisture trickle down the back of his leg. His body didn't shy away from anything Raph gave him, either. It sucked him in and held him there, hungry and begging for more, and the friction was rubbing him raw in the best of ways. 

"Harder," Leo crooned, as an answer, "h-ah! Ha, hard_er _ big boy, harder, _please_..."

The pleasured shockwaves running over Raph's skin shot up an amp at the wanton tone of his pleading.

He didn't explore this part of himself often- shit, he wasn't in control of anything often, let alone a famous, rich, slutty walking wet dream. 

"Ya want it harder?" he snarled. He reached down and grabbed Leo's left leg from where it was balancing on his toes, hiking it higher until his entire shin was resting on Raph's upper thigh in a half-squat. 

The next thrust was _ deeep _ and true, sliding home with almost no resistance. Leo yipped and arched up, clawing at the wood, providing enough momentum for Raph to adjust his other leg accordingly without pulling away or stopping for long.

"G-ah! Ah-"

Leo didn't protest the cramped position, bending instead to press his head against the door so he could sob into it. His chants of "please, please, please," morphed mid-word into mindless babbles of "yes, yes, YE- oh fuck, oh fuck…" as he popped his ass desperately back over and over, essentially supported only by Raph’s towering mass.

Raph felt him fluttering and shaking, and knew what was coming. "That better? That hard enough for ya? G'head and cum, ya freaky lil'-"

Leo's face hit the door when his hand flew down to fondle his dripping cock. Raph wished he could've seen his face contort as he went over the edge, but he settled for fucking him even harder, dragging his hips back until the dry smacks echoed around the room. 

_ 'Does he even know my name?' _Raph couldn't remember if he'd told him. 

_ He's about to fuckin' know it now. _

"R. A. P. H," he grunted, punctuating each letter with a punishing thrust and a hot lick to Leo's ear slit. "Raph-ah-el. Wanna hear ya say it w-when ya cumin' for me." He was an inch away from losing control his damn self, but he was determined to get his partner off first.

He wasn't too worried for his chances, given that Leo was already crying out incoherently, poorly muffling himself with his forearm. 

"R-Ra-," Leo shuddered, so far gone he instantly started to obey, like a good little <strike>sub</strike> _slut_, "Ra-ph-ha! EH! Oh-"

He came with a gasp and a sob, splattering his lower half with sticky white ribbons and leaving sparkly blue tear tracks in the wood grain.

"Oooh, fuck, oo-ooh..."

Raph fucked him right through it and into the long, slow climb to a second one, heat and ego pressing down on him from all sides until his head spun. His mouth was running off the rails as he chased his own climax down, digging his fingers harshly into the meat of Leo’s ass to hoist him higher and open him up as he kicked and wailed against the sensitivity.

There was nowhere he could go, and they both knew and loved it.

“Ohmygod, oh m-my god shit, shit pl-please, oh-”

The pressure from his clenching muscles felt like absolute heaven, and only drove Raphael to carry on harder. He thought about Leo, _PrimeTime_, rocking back on his own fingers, chewing on his lips to keep from screaming while Raph ranted and raved just beyond the door, daydreaming about the dicking he was about to get. 

"Ain't done," Raph mouthed into the nape of Leo's neck. In that moment, he wanted more than unconditional surrender. He wanted Leo to remember him, sear the memory of what he'd bought so deeply into him that he'd cream himself later to the thought of a 'commoner' like Raph coring him out and making him howl.

"I ain't d-done. Keep givin' it up, ya asked for it, fuckin' take it-"

They faltered for a second, just a second, when the door shook for a reason other than their rutting. Someone had finally had enough, knocking and cursing up an unmistakable, Mexican-flavored storm. 

"HEY! Hey, _ Callaté, cabrón hada! Callaté, hada!" _

A toxic dart of fear iced through Raphael's cloud of lust, sharpening each sensation quickly enough to stagger him slightly. "Shi-!"

Much like before, he felt himself shoved closer to the finish line with the thought, the knowledge that they had an audience that knew exactly what was happening, and why and how. 

Leonardo, nearly recovered and twice as vindictive, took advantage of the lapse to fling his leg over Raph's head and swivel himself around so that they faced each other at last, dropping his whole weight back down to take Raph down to the hilt.

"Jes-!"

The new position turned the pace into frantic short jabs that brutalized both his plush rim and the over-sensitive head of Raph’s cock. At that angle, it felt like he was toeing the line of too deep, but they still didn't stop. 

Through it all, Leo still managed to spit a curse at the hallway, pronunciation flawless even in vicious, breathless ecstasy.

“T-t_é jodes_, J-Jorgé!”

He wrapped his legs around Raph's waist and locked his ankles behind his back; it was all Raph could do to hold him up and keep ploughing in, shunting his hips up to fuck him hard on the downstroke.

"AH-!"

Describing the resulting squelches and sounds as _ nasty _ would've been the understatement of the century, and they quaked and roiled as one when Raphael hit his prostate dead. _ Fucking_. Center.

"FUCK!" Once.

"UnH-h!" Twice.

_ 'fuck fuck F-' _Three times...

He was losing the feeling in his fucking _ legs_, he was so fucking close and they could hear it all-

"_HADAAA!"_

_Four_.

Through the colors swimming in his head, he felt Leo shake apart inside and out again, leaving half moon scratches at the bases of Raph's shoulder spines as he clutched at them desperately. “Yes! _ Yes! _G-god I'm-!"

"U_H! ShIT!" _

His thrusts grew hard enough to bruise as he finally toppled over his peak, burying spurt after spurt of a wrenching, climbing orgasm deep inside his partner. He almost roared from the intensity, registering nothing but the taste of iron and the relief sweeping him down.

Leonardo shivered and hiccuped as he twitched through a second climax of his own, spent cock jerking and streaking valiantly from where it was trapped between their bony fronts. 

Raphael was able to drag a breath in after the last of the black dots faded from his vision. He had to battle the instinct to sway forward and crush Leo further, so he let his sated exhaustion carry him backward until he was resting on his shell. Leo followed him down as he slipped out, equally panting and sweat-soaked. 

The knocking stopped by the time they cycled down into the eaves of the afterglow, just in time for Raph’s anxiety to return and tear him a new one.

The minute he saw the panicked expression on his face, Leo burst into tired giggles. “Th-that was amazing, but you look so freaked out.”

_Fuck_. Did he really... did they rally just do that?

“I dunno what’s so funny,” Raph grumbled, half-heartedly worried and annoyed. “They’re prolly on their way ta arrest me right now.”

It would almost be worth it, if not for the fact that Splinter would remove his head from his neck the minute Raph was released from the clink. 

Leo flicked an errant clump of glitter away from the corner of his eye and reached down to stroke himself absently, toying with the mess dribbling thickly from his hole until Raph was blushing again.

“Calm down, big man. As many times as I’ve had to deal with that from him?” He rolled his eyes carelessly. “_Jorgé _wouldn’t dare.”

His expression softened as they locked gazes, and the red brown flush crawled further down Raph’s shoulders. “I wouldn’t have gotten you in trouble like that regardless,” he added. 

Raph ducked his head to hide his sheepish grin, feeling dorky and awkward again now that the crazy lust was passing and the tension was broken. “Not without bailin’ me out at least, right?”

There was no other word to describe the smile he received- it was fond, edging towards earnest. “After a _ while, _sure. I like you too much to leave you there.”

They both snickered at his gentle teasing. Raph was incredibly grateful that the mood hadn’t shifted into a horribly weird or cold one, as well as...genuinely shocked that he wanted to keep the conversation going after everything was finished. 

He wouldn’t have minded having the chance to get to know the other mutant, but he knew that life didn’t work like that. A dirty, anonymous fuck was one thing. Raphael blamed his soft-ass heart for the twinge of wanting that tried to trip him as he stood and offered a hand to Leo, pulling him lightly to his feet and snorting when he wobbled. 

He didn’t bother to look at his phone- he knew his brother was probably en route at that very moment. He didn’t want to just nut and leave, but...

“I, uh,” Raph huffed, knuckling the underside of his jaw bashfully. “My brother’s comin’ to get me. Ah…”

By some stroke of strange-ass luck, his stumbling dumb-assery was actually endearing him to the hot celebrity he’d just fucked, also by some strange-ass luck.

“You’re coming back for the show later, right?” Leo reminded him, with a twinkle gleaming in the depths of his sugary brown eyes. “Come see me afterwards. I’ll make sure you get escorted.” 

_ Oh, shit. _Raph opened his mouth to reply right as his phone started buzzing, saving him from making an ass out of himself once again. 

“I-”

Leo shook his head and pressed a finger to his lip, then a kiss to his cheek, arching up on his tiptoes to do so. “After the show, Raph-_ay_-el,” he breathed, making the middle syllable husky and moan-like. “You gotta go clean up.”

It physically ached to turn away from him and open the door instead of bending him head over ass and going for phase 2 (<strike>and he was sure Leo would let him</strike>), but Raphael somehow managed it.

It closed with a soft click behind him as Raph squinted into the bright hallway fluorescents, hardly daring to believe that the last hour hadn’t been a hallucination.

The mess on his plastron and the lines on his shell and shoulders were a pretty good notch in the ‘real’ column, as was the lingering taste of sex and sweat on his tongue.

He stumbled forward and nearly faceplanted as something made of cloth tangled around his ankles- he looked down, and saw the too-small, generic league shirt that Ghostbear had tossed at him earlier. 

Raph reached down to pick it up without really thinking about it, dangling it from his finger by the tag while staring blankly at Ghostbear’s closed door. There was no noise coming from behind it, anymore. 

Slowly, a shit-eating grin stole itself over Raph’s beak. He balled up the shirt and used it to sponge the drying cum off his front, making sure he was as spotless as the shirt was sticky and disgusting, before tossing it on the knob like a flag and making his way to the stairs.

_Fucker_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Callaté, cabrón hada! Callaté, hada!" : Shut up, fairy bastard! Shut up! 
> 
> "T-té jodes, Jorge!": "Go fuck yourself, Jorge!"
> 
> The song lyrics aren't too important, but they're from Mamacita by Farruko. Hope you enjoyed! Leave a comment if so, if you'd please?)

**Author's Note:**

> (A/N: I admit it! I ADMIT IT I LIKE THICC SWEETHEART RISE RAPH AND I THINK HE TOPS RISE LEO. GAH! *crawls back into depression corner*)


End file.
